Nobody's Guardian Angel
by Summerlea
Summary: a gunslinger and a berseker. how strange. [au.fluff.][crack!pairing][saixvincent valentine]


**PAIRING: VINCENT VALENTINE/ Saïx**  
**A/N:** For Comm.   
Weird pairing- I KNOW. But it's adorable, and you know it.

_So he would sulk and drink and mope and cross his arms and hope to die  
And then a fairy came one night to bring this sorry boy to life._

_-Driftwood-Cursive-_

He didn't know where he was, or what time it was. Judging by the warmth seeping into the ass of his jeans, his detached, swirling mind went to 'gutter', although the concept of lying in his own vomit wasn't exactly ruled out.  
Waking up this way was not uncommon for Saïx. When most of your life was devoted to killing things and being generally evil, the easiest hobby became drinking. Especially when you had no real heart and were filled with confusion and half ass memories- then you had no regret for becoming an alcoholic.

He attempted to sit up and swayed, his mind reeling and pointing out that yes, he was still drunk. Amazing. Saïx blinked his golden eyes heavily, thin eyebrows arching down to form a frown as he lifted a hand to rub the scar marring his forehead.  
After a few seconds, his surroundings suddenly hit him, the swirling mass coming to an abrupt halt.  
He was in a bathroom.

This was not _his_ bathroom.

Upon further 'exploration' (which included just sort of fumbling around blankly in bright florescent lighting), Saïx came to the conclusion that he was in a bathtub, of all places. The bathtub also had a small line of water still on the bottom of it, as if it had been recently used, which explained why his pants were dampened.  
He attempted to push himself up again, realizing that he was sprawled out at an awkward angle with his legs hanging off of the edge of the bath-tub, his heavy, dirt clumped boots just gracing a soft maroon rug that lay on the ground. He failed, miserably, and mainly managed to slip and hit his head against the back of the bathtub.  
"Fuckkk," Saïx snarled, but it came out as more of a slurred groan, and gave up. He slumped back and let his eyes fall shut and promptly passed out once again.

+

When Saïx came to a second time, it was still in the bathroom, but the lights were now off. The door was also apparently shut, because no light streamed into the bathroom and when he first opened his eyes, he momentarily considered that he had gone blind.  
However, this had been dismissed after he tried to move and, even in the darkness, caught his darkened reflection shifting in the mirror.

Although still feeling rather dizzy, Saïx decided that he was definitely sobered up at this point, and attempted to once again tackle the bathtub. After a few minutes of slipping and hitting his elbow on various hard objects, he finally managed to pull himself over the edge and onto the fuzzy maroon rug with a soft thud.

For a moment, he lay there, blankly thinking back on the night before. He had been feeling rather apathetic (but when wasn't he?) when he had started drinking, and had toyed with the idea of seeing if he could, in fact, die. Judging by the lack of bruises and other bodily harm on his body, Saïx assumed that he had decided to just get drunk instead of play suicidal.

After a few more minutes of just lying there and trying to gauge if he would vomit (unlikely- an experienced drinker like himself didn't vomit very easily, hung-over or not), Saïx pushed himself to his knees. He fumbled in the dark with his hands until he felt the wall, and used it as support as he moved to his feet. A bit more fumbling revealed the light-switch, and he flicked his index finger over the single switch, shooting light into the bathroom once more and pain into his eyes.  
"Fuck," Saïx murmured once more, less of an adjective and more of a comment about his general position at this point in time. Vaguely, he gazed around the bathroom. It was painted a deep shade of red that made the entire thing feel a lot smaller than it was, and the light bulb connected to the switch was tinted red so the room had this whole 'swimming in blood' feel to it.

It was mainly decorated in shades of black and maroon, and didn't seem to have very much attempted style to it. There was a painting hanging above the toilet- some dark oil based abstract thing that Saïx had to tilt his head to try and figure out if the subject was a horribly disfigured person or a bleeding tree.  
Eventually, he gave up with the painting, eyes grazing the sink and the single black and pink streaked toothbrush in it's holder. For a moment, what with all of the dark colors, Saïx feared that he had somehow gotten lost in Axel's personal bathroom, despite the fact that he was at a bar in some obscure world last night- not at The Castle That Never Was.

Three minutes later and Saïx decided that he couldn't hide in the bathroom very much longer. His paranoid side began to seep through as he shuffled to the door, pale, long fingers wrapping around the golden door knob to turn it. He had absolutely no idea where he was, and he was in no real condition to fight, so he mentally prayed that wherever he was, it was not hostile.

Saïx twisted the knob and pulled back the door and blinked out into the hallway. More deep reds covered the walls, the flooring was a deep almost black colored wood, and in the center of the hall, underneath a large mirror, was a stand with a cracked stained glass vase with white roses crammed into it.  
As he passed it, one hand pressed to the wall for balance, Saïx noted that the roses were wilting and probably needed water. But seeing as how he wasn't Marluxia and didn't really give a shit about plants, he stumbled onward, into the direction of what he hoped was the exit.  
The hallway branched out into an open living room furnished with deep leather couches, a glass coffee table with gothic iron-wrought legs, and a few book-cases. There was no TV, he noted absently, eyes surveying the room.  
Saïx froze at the sound of liquid streaming from his left, where his eyes had not yet roamed. Although judging by the layout of this apartment (he assumed that was what this was), the most logical area to his left would be the kitchen. He waited for any more noises, but the soft tinkling noises continued for a moment, and then were replaced by a soft beeping noise.  
A shuffle came a few moments later, and the sound of pouring, and Saïx decided to finally turn and look. His golden eyes swept across a counter-top of black tiling and landed upon a girl with her back to him in the kitchen, apparently busy with pouring something that Saïx couldn't see.  
A few seconds later, and the girl turned slowly, giving her side-profile to Saïx, and the bluenette's eyes widened. This wasn't a girl. The features, although feminine, were most certainly male- from the long, dark eyelashes that framed a set of hauntingly crimson eyes, to the locks of black that flowed down his shoulders and framed his pale face.  
There was the slightest trace of a smirk curved into the pale, full lips of this man as he turned, red eyes lifting to meet Saïx's surveying ones.

"Coffee?" The stranger offered, his voice deep and smooth, and he held out a white coffee cup towards Saïx, his pale fingers wrapped around the ceramic handle, flecks of black nail-polish visible on his nails.  
Saïx just sort of stared and didn't accept the cup, instead pointing towards the hallway he came from. "Was that your bathroom…?" He asked, blankly.

The dark haired male who was, Saïx noted as he strolled around the counter-top that had been dividing them, was shirtless, shrugged. "You sort of stumbled into it last night and refused to come back out, so I figured you'd be better of in there." He paused, taking a sip of the rejected coffee. "I picked you up from a gutter in front of some bar. You were vomiting on yourself," He stated, that smirk lining his lips again.  
Saïx looked away, finding the canvas that was leaning up against an easel on the wall nearby suddenly very interesting.  
The other continued, giving another half-hearted shrug of the shoulders. "I took you home. I changed your clothes. You stumbled into the bathroom. I went in around two to feed you some toast and you rambled something about a Kingdom of Hearts and fell back asleep, and now you're in my kitchen." He paused, crimson eyes surveying Saïx without shame. Almost as an afterthought, he added, "Vincent."

"Excuse me?" Saïx snapped back, and almost momentarily felt bad for being bitchy. His gaze dragged back to the male before him, to the golden claw connected to a bracer, strapped to his arm. He stared a little, before dully realizing that he'd seen 'worse', and righted his gaze to his face instead.  
The man lifted his eyebrows, staring right back at him. "Vincent," He repeated, slowly, as if he were talking to someone very stupid. "That's my name."

Saïx flushed a little and let his eyes shoot away again, this time to the coffee pot on the counter and the second ceramic, black, cup that sat beside it. "Oh."  
There was a long, awkward pause.  
Vincent spoke up again, his tone the same, although tinted with something that resembled humor. "This is the part where you say your name. Unless, of course you'd rather I just refer to you as 'Gutter Bum'."

Saïx's cheeks went even warmer, and a scowl slipped across his face. He reminded himself that he should _not_ be blushing just because he had forgotten that most people liked to indulge in this thing called 'manners'. Something in the back of his mind hinted that maybe he wasn't blushing because of that solely, but Saïx ignored it.  
"Saïx," He murmured in response, finally lifting his eyes to the other, and their gazes locked- Amber and cerise.

"So Saïx," Vincent practically hummed, taking another drink from his coffee, his gaze unwavering- challenging. "Was there a reason why you were practically passed out in a gutter last night?"

Saïx's eyes narrowed but didn't pull away. "And you'd like to know because….?"

Vincent gave another absent minded shrug. "Curiosity. You don't seem too much like the type to laze about in gutters very often- too pretty." That smirk slid back into place again, heightened by the confused expression that momentarily flashed across Saïx's face.  
Saïx opened his mouth to respond, but the room abruptly swirled, joined with a sharp wave of pain from his head. He stumbled, fingers grasping onto the counter to hold himself up, found none, and prepared himself for a fall. Instead of hitting wood, however, his cheek brushed against flesh, and he felt a strong arm wrap around his waist, holding him up.  
Vaguely, he heard Vincent hiss a small, 'Shit', and heard the scrape of the ceramic cup of coffee being set onto the countertop. A second arm joined the other, and Saïx felt himself being lifted up better, felt them move as he let his eyes fall shut, breathing softly on the other male's neck.

"Hey," Vincent grunted, moving backwards down the hallway, half-dragging the bluenette with him. "Don't pass out on me again. Fuck- You looked like you'd be able to hold your alcohol," He growled, more to himself than to the other man, and pulled him past the bathroom- through another door that revealed itself to be a bedroom. Saïx gave a small grunt as he was tossed onto the king sized bed that was pushed up against the far wall, and squinted his eyes as Vincent's face hovered into view above his own, the smirk replaced with something that bordered concern.  
For a second, Saïx remembered a similar position, with Vincent's face over-top of his own, except bordered with the night sky and city smoke instead of Vincent's bedroom ceiling.  
He frowned, squeezing his eyes shut and pressing a hand to his temple, and attempted to sit up. "I'm fine," Saïx murmured finally, his tone more of an annoyed growl than anything else. When he opened his eyes a few seconds later, it was to meet a pair of crimson ones a good half a foot away from his own face. He blinked, and the blush began to stain across his cheeks once more. The expression of concern was still on Vincent's face, and Saïx flicked his eyes away after a few seconds.  
"Why are you so worried?" He asked, bluntly, eyes downcast. A ghost of a smirk formed across his lips. "Are you playing guardian angel or something?"  
When he lifted his gaze once more, it was to find that Vincent was still looking at him, the concern replaced with something unreadable, and the smirk slipped from Saïx's lips. They were close enough now that Saïx could see the exact shade of ghostly pallor that Vincent's skin possessed- as if he were something inhuman. Idly, he noticed that Vincent was crouching over him- he had never sat up, it seemed, but the idea didn't bother him very much at this moment.  
After a long pause, Vincent let out a small chuckle. "Something like that," He murmured in response, red eyes dropping, tracing the curve of Saïx's lips.

For a long second, neither of them breathed. Then Vincent moved. In one smooth gesture he had his claw on the other side of Saïx, pressing into the soft mattress, and his lips against the bluenette's without any form of hesitation or wariness.

Saïx didn't protest, although his golden eyes widened visibly and something in his stomach churned and twisted uncomfortably. But instead of pushing away, he leaned forward, finally letting his eyes flutter shut.  
As Vincent pressed, as he traced his tongue just barely on Saïx's lower lip as if it were some silent plea, Saïx slipped a hand up, snaking up the dark haired male's bare neck, tangling in the black, thick hair at the nape of his neck. Vincent let out a small groan, probably a combination affect of hair tugging and Saïx's tongue slipping into his mouth, tracing his abnormally sharpened canines.  
Abruptly, it ended.  
Vincent pulled away, looking a bit apologetic in return to Saïx's half-confused expression. "You vomited last night," He reminded, as if it were some sort of code-word, and Saïx flushed again.

Vincent lingered in the position for a moment longer, until Saïx's fingers slipped from his hair, back to the bed, and the darker haired male pulled away. His good hand dropped, clasping gently onto Saïx's elbow, tugging, beckoning. "You can use my toothbrush," He murmured, not meeting Saïx's mildly surprised expression.  
"I'm not fond of kissing vomit."  
Saïx's lips curved into a smirk, and he willingly padded after the other man, back into the bathroom he had awoken in, to that black and pink streaked toothbrush. "You wouldn't happen to want your pants back anytime soon, would you?"


End file.
